I was flying amongst the clouds
Floating and one with the salty sea air
The breezes ruffling my feathers
The sun upon my wings and my beak
Turning my head
First one eye then the other
I spied from high above the oceans swells
Something spreading
Across the waters surface
It was black and shiny
Rainbow colors moving and pulsing
Drawn to its dark beauty I
Tucked my wings and descended
A spiral artist as I circled gently down
Drawing close
I stretched forth my webbed feet
Dropping down with a wet plop
You were beautiful from afar
But when I touched you
You clung to my feathers
You covered my skin and my beak
You stung my eyes
I couldn’t preen
Without your oil soaking into me
Still I kept trying and now look at me
Black oil smeared all over
Floundering in the slick that is you
I’ll drown soon
Because there’s no way
I’ll ever fly again
tara caribou | ©️2018
*please remember, this work has nothing to do with or about or towards the blogger mentioned, simply that I used their blog name/title/tagline as a writing prompt.
Thank you, Spiral. Here’s #mygifttoyou
I don’t know where to start. You’re one of my very best friends and I am so glad to have you in my life. Your poetry is musical and makes me think deep. You have a wicked sense of humor and deep insights. I like that about you. ~tara
It’s very sad that such things happen. I like your poem.
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I’m so glad you do Roger.
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That’s beautiful and incredibly heartbreaking… Reminds me of the Exxon Valdez oil spill.
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Totally!! There’s still pockets of oil on the beaches from that, I shit you not. It’s horrible.
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I know. I believe you. I haven’t seen it. But I can only imagine how fucking shit that is. For you. I’ve never had anything so awful happen to me or around me in this lifetime memory.
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The really fucked up thing is all the blow-back from Fukushima and yet mainstream media refuses to report on it. A couple years the beaches here were covered in thousands of dead sea birds. Lots of dead whales. Almost all the starfish are dead or mutated. Pretty much no more clams here. The ocean is so fucked up now….. don’t get me started.
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The ocean scares me. I mean I love it! But.. there are things that are meant to stay in the sea and they’re not going to stay there much longer with the rate people fuck everything up. I’m ashamed to be people
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Right! This is why I go barefoot and smear my naked body with mud and clay….
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Kalliope is such a cool eh… what do you call these days? A handle? Anyways, I just wanted to say that 😀
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Yeah I think it’s called a handle? But I totally want to thank you for your inspired complimentary comment. Thanks Jo, whoever you are 🙂
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#^_^#
Now that we have the blushing out of the way (this should be obvious that I am honored and flattered and happy and squeeing still): first off, thank you so so much I LOVE THIS.
Second: I love the storytelling aspect – I do say you do storytelling in poetry format very well, and this was no exception (if anything, it was exceptionally well done.) The imagery is impeccable (as always) and the way you illustrate a seemingly-colorful and enticing surface hiding the murky depths of a monstrous apparition… chills, Tara. I got chills.
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I was in a dark “I’m writing three scathing self-loathing poems at one time” kind of a mood. The spiral artist was designed to paint her as beautiful and artistic and free-flying to contrast with the deceptive cloying suffocating nature of the oil slick.
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So beautiful and yet so sad. I need a moment.
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Thanks Chris. This is actually in my poetry book, with permission of Spiral, whose name inspired the poem.
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It’s a wonderful piece – I’m embarrassed to say that I haven’t yet got a copy. I’ll get onto it a little later today.
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No worries. It is a full book of poetry, after all, which I am aware isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I’m just honored that you read my words here.
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